


Patchwork Family

by dapperyklutz



Series: Give Geralt Love [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family of Choice, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Past Geralt/Yennefer, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperyklutz/pseuds/dapperyklutz
Summary: He has walked The Path long enough to know that humans — mortals or otherwise — constantly seek for more. More money. More land. More power. More fame. More holes to fuck.They want everything and more, more,more.But Geralt understands, more than anyone, that sometimes, what you want is not what you deserve.Or: It takes Geralt a horribly long time to learn that he's made his own family.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Give Geralt Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859470
Comments: 24
Kudos: 405
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	Patchwork Family

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 Prompt: Family
> 
> Timeline what timeline? Anyway, this was so fun to write.
> 
> Self-beta'd. Enjoy!

**Patchwork** noun  
**patch·work | \ ˈpach-ˌwərk /**  
_something composed of miscellaneous or incongruous parts_

**Family** noun  
**fam·i·ly | \ ˈfam-lē \**  
_a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation_

~

He has always struggled to connect with people, both humans and witchers alike. The added mutations only served to isolate him further from the rest of the boys. _Freak_ , they used to call him.

Hideous.

Grotesque.

Abnormal.

_Monster._

Of course, that all changed with time. Eskel is his closest friend, but after the Trials, even it took a long time for the other witcher to get used to Geralt’s unnatural strength and speed, and even more peculiar looks. 

As the years trickle by and Geralt continues to carry on The Path, his relationship with his brothers and Vesemir became better. After the pogrom, they are all that remains of the School of the Wolf. Grief has a way of bringing people together, and they were not an exception to that.

Aside from them, the only other companion that Geralt cherishes above all is Roach. And for decades, the chestnut mare has remained his number one constant and steadfast ally.

It’s more than enough, Geralt thinks. It should.

And it was.

But Destiny had other plans for him.

~

The bard is annoying.

Geralt meant it when he told Jaskier that he doesn’t want anybody needing him. But what he doesn’t tell the infuriating man is that Geralt has lived long enough to _not_ know what it’s like to be needed. Or wanted. Just entertaining those thoughts is enough to give him the hives, and Geralt, despite his reputation as a witcher, is a creature of comforts.

He’s used to walking The Path alone, Roach’s company notwithstanding. He’s used to being pelted by rocks and rotten vegetables by prejudiced people. He’s used to the hateful and spiteful comments spat at him and his kind. And Geralt’s not an idiot to _indulge_ himself with silly fantasies of having another person by his side.

It’s a farfetched notion.

~

Geralt’s an idiot.

Jaskier latching on to him like a leech should’ve been the first clue.

~

The djinn.

Meeting Yennefer.

The last wish.

_Fucking_ Yennefer.

Then meeting each other over the years, whether it’s by Destiny or happenstance, and falling into bed together, should’ve been the second clue.

But Geralt is either too deep in denial or as dense as Jaskier tells him sometimes (okay, _often_ ) that what he and the purple-eyed sorceress have is anything but substantial.

Yes, he cares about Yennefer. Geralt can even admit that he loves Yennefer. But as much as his heart yearns to deepen the connection he forced themselves in, Geralt knows that what they have is nothing more than carnal.

~

Geralt pushes any and all thoughts about his _wants_ and _needs_ to the back of his mind, and focuses instead on the _now_.

He doesn’t want to look deeper into things because doing so only leads to trouble. And pain. And heartbreak. And misery.

He has walked The Path long enough to know that humans — mortals or otherwise — constantly seek for more. More money. More land. More power. More fame. More holes to fuck.

They want everything and more, more, _more_.

But Geralt understands, more than anyone, that sometimes, what you want is not what you deserve.

~

Then the confrontation after the dragon hunt happens.

After he loses Yennefer —

After he pushes Jaskier away for good —

Geralt realises that he’s the cause of his own heartbreak.

That was the third clue.

~

Finding his Child Surprise takes precedence.

Everything else can wait.

~

“Where can we go?” Ciri asks him after they find each other in the woods.

Geralt tamps down the ache in his chest at the child’s earlier question of _Who’s Yennefer?_ That’s a discussion for another day. Right now, getting his Child Surprise to safety is more important than anything.

“We’ll head to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt replies as he guides Ciri to the direction he came from. “We’ll be safest there.”

“Kaer Morhen? Is that your home?”

When Geralt hums, he feels Ciri sidle closer to him. A strange feeling stirs in his gut before he gives in to the urge to wrap a comforting arm around the child’s shoulders.

He awkwardly pats her and says, sounding a tad uncomfortable, “There, there. You’ll be okay.”

Ciri sniffles and burrows closer to Geralt, and it’s times like this when the witcher finds himself yearning, _aching_ , for Jaskier’s company. The bard is infinitely better at handling social situations, including dealing with grief-stricken orphaned princesses.

But no. Ciri is Geralt’s responsibility now. He has to step up.

~

They’ve been traveling for two weeks now, Geralt making sure that they take the back roads instead. With Nilfgaard on their tails, he’s not willing to risk Ciri’s safety by taking the easier path.

Speaking of Ciri, the young princess is still subdued most of the time, but recently she’s beginning to open up. She talks more, about the foods she misses back home and what-not, and it’s honestly a welcome change from the not-so blessed silence Geralt initially thought he wanted.

“How come Jaskier isn’t with you?” Ciri asks one night.

Geralt visibly startles at the question, nearly dropping the whetstone and slicing his palm open with the steel sword he’s sharpening in front of the crackling fire.

How did she..?

Ciri must’ve read the expression on his face because she quickly discloses, “He used to come visit Cintra every year. He said that Grandmother loved his performances that she kept hiring him, but Grandmother told me that it was Jaskier who would invite himself to perform at the court.”

That… Geralt never knew that. He thinks of the bard, of the hateful words Geralt shouted at him on the mountain that fateful day. Then he thinks of Jaskier going out of his way to visit _Geralt’s_ Child Surprise because Geralt was too much of a coward to face his Destiny, and because…

Because Jaskier _cared_.

“He also wrote me a song,” Ciri continues with a wistful smile, heedless of Geralt’s inner turmoil. “Whenever he took a break between songs, he would come to me and tell me stories of his adventures with you.”

“Hmm…”

Ciri nods. “Oh, yes. He kept mentioning the great White Wolf, his very best friend in the world.”

Oh.

_Shit._ Fuck, that’s definitely bile rising in Geralt’s throat.

“Where is Jaskier, Geralt?” Ciri asks tentatively, her voice faint against the leaves rustling and the crackling of the fire.

It takes Geralt a horribly long time to answer. “I don’t know.”

At Ciri’s disappointed look, he forces himself to explain. He thinks it’s the least he can do. “I… it was my fault. I said something terrible to him and he left. I drove him away, and I tried looking for him but… I don’t think he wants to be found.”

Geralt hides a smile when Ciri hums, looking pensive for a while as she mulls over his stilted response.

“We should go find him, then,” Ciri decides. Before Geralt can argue, she lifts her chin and fixes him with a look. “He means something to you. I know it because you sometimes call him in your sleep. And I know that you’re important to him, too.”

“I doubt that,” Geralt grumbles.

Ciri blinks at him, something unreadable passing over her face.

“Isn’t that the point of family, though? That even though you’ve hurt each other, it doesn’t weaken the depth of your relationship. You shouldn’t give up so easily, Geralt.” Ciri tilts her head, a wistful smile on her cherubic face. “You can apologise once we find him.”

Geralt arches a brow. “Why are you so insistent on this?”

“Because he’s family,” she responds simply, and isn’t that a slap on the face? “I no longer have mine, but you still have yours. And… you _have_ to fight for your family. Besides,” Ciri adds, certainty in her tone. “Destiny has a way of bringing people together. Maybe the reason why you haven’t been able to find Jaskier yet is because both of you needed some growing up to do.”

Geralt admits that his Child Surprise is too perceptive for her age. And nosy. But he’s smart enough to know not to point out that she’s too young to be saying these things. It also doesn’t escape him that it’s not only his and Jaskier’s relationship that Ciri is referring to about family and destiny.

So Geralt does what he knows best: he nods his head with a thoughtful hum.

Later that night, when Ciri is curled next to him fast asleep with her head resting on the crook of his neck and a thin arm slung around his torso, Geralt lets his mind wander.

It would be so easy to lower his walls and just… _give in_. Give in to his heart’s desire. Give in and acknowledge Jaskier’s words from years ago that, _yes_ , he has wants and needs, too.

After letting out a long, stuttered exhale, Geralt looks aimlessly at the indigo sky and grants himself this moment of weakness. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

With no one around to hear him, Geralt whispers, “I can be your family, too.”

~

It takes them another month — a long, harrowing month — for Geralt and Ciri to find Jaskier.

Geralt is in the bard’s rented room at a backwater village somewhere in Redania when he he’s given the chance to _finally_ use his fucking words and say:

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry for pushing you away when it was the last thing I wanted to do. I was angry at myself and you were an easy target. Not because you matter little to me, but I always assumed that you— and I… I gave you so many reasons to leave me but you never did. So it… hurt when you left. You— you _are_ my friend, Jaskier, and I’m really sorry for hurting you.”

Despite the struggle, he means every word he says. And Jaskier’s eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, convey all the emotions that Geralt has always struggled to tamp down.

“That must’ve hurt,” is the bard’s teasing reply after several moments.

Geralt scowls at his shit-eating grin, but it belies the warmth that spreads across his chest when Jaskier moves to pat his shoulder, lute-calloused fingers trailing down his arm to squeeze it.

“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier says, sounding heartfelt and a bit choked with emotion. “At the back of my mind, I knew you didn’t mean it, but I’m only human. It hurt me for a long time, and I was quite cross with you for a while as well. But I’m over it now and, well, I suppose you and I needed the space, hm? To grow and learn from our mistakes.”

Geralt nods and, after a considering pause, raises a gloved hand to awkwardly pat Jaskier’s shoulder. He beams at Geralt, cornflower blue eyes bright with joy and fondness.

“I’m going to hug you now.”

Before Geralt can think of a response, his body stiffens when Jaskier steps closer to wrap deceptively strong arms around his shoulders. Seconds pass and Jaskier remains pressed close to Geralt’s chest, until he slowly relaxes in the bard’s warm embrace. Reluctantly, Geralt lifts his arms from his sides to gently wrap around Jaskier’s waist.

Geralt’s heart starts to beat a little faster when he feels Jaskier tighten his arms around his neck.

“I missed you.” Geralt is surprised to hear himself speak those words out loud.

If Jaskier is surprised, he doesn’t show it, but Geralt’s enhanced senses can smell the joy and affection pouring off Jaskier in waves.

“I missed you too, my dear friend,” Jaskier whispers fondly, and Geralt is unable to fight off a shiver when he feels dry lips press gently on the curve where his neck and shoulder meet.

~

Everything is the same, and not.

Jaskier joins them on their journey, and the bard’s presence easily fits into their company. It’s like he was always meant to be with them.

Geralt is secretly happy to see him and Ciri bond over their shared interests, including certain luxuries they miss. Upon request, Jaskier sings the song he wrote for Ciri, titled _The Ballad of the Lion Cub of Cintra_ , and even Geralt finds himself humming along to the tune.

They fall into a routine.

Every time they set up camp, they wordlessly carry on with their respective tasks. Ciri is in charge of collecting wood and arranging their bed rolls. Jaskier is responsible for building the fire and grooming Roach while Geralt goes off to hunt for their dinner. Geralt skins and cooks whatever he manages to kill while Jaskier provides the entertainment, either through song or narration. Ciri either listens to Jaskier or observes Geralt’s skill with a knife.

Overall, Geralt revels in having Jaskier back in his life, and he knows Ciri shares the same sentiment. When it was just them, it was quiet and peaceful, yes. But it was more subdued. Now that Jaskier is traveling with them, it’s like the spark is back. Colours look more vivid, Ciri’s laughter sounds more sincere, and as for Geralt?

Well, his heart has never felt this light in a very long time.

~

He doesn’t know when it happens, or even how it happens. Somehow, reconciling and reuniting with Jaskier also meant that their dynamic has shifted. It’s not bad, actually. Geralt is just a tad baffled how he and Jaskier have become more… affectionate with each other.

An arm slung casually around a shoulder, fingers brushing against each other, a hand resting on one’s knee or wrist. Every touch burns an invisible mark on Geralt, and he’s surprised to find himself craving for more of Jaskier’s affectionate touches.

It took Geralt a week to realise that he often wakes up with Jaskier spooned behind him. Ciri usually sleeps against his front, and as the weather draws closer to winter and they continue to move up north, it only made sense that Jaskier would sleep on Geralt’s other side.

Geralt doesn’t have a problem with sharing his body heat, it’s just… he’s _surprised_ that it took him this long to notice, is all. Jaskier’s arms wrapped protectively around Geralt’s waist, legs tangling with his. Not even Jaskier snuffling in his ear throughout the night bothers Geralt. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

Geralt likes it. He likes it so much that every time he feels Jaskier shift behind him, slightly chapped lips inadvertently pressing on Geralt’s nape, Geralt can’t help but _melt_ further in the bard’s arms.

After that realisation, Geralt ends up subtly leaning further into Jaskier’s front, and some nights he pretends to accidentally rest his hand over Jaskier’s on his stomach. If he were a better man, he would feel guilty. But all Geralt feels is contentment, happy to be wrapped in the arms of someone who matters so much to him.

~

They find Yennefer three weeks later.

Or rather, it’s Yennefer who finds _them_ , camped out in a clearing somewhere near Vergen. She’s weak, even Geralt can see it in the way her back hunches and she struggles to do the simplest magic.

The sorceress explains the part she played at the Battle of Sodden Hill, how she managed to use what’s left of her chaos to open a portal in the nearest village and steal a horse to get to them. It’s only thanks to her link with Geralt that Yennefer was able to track them down.

Geralt belatedly remembers the question Ciri asked him months ago, and something in his chest gives when he sees his Child Surprise approach Yennefer with wide, curious eyes. Seeing the way Yennefer’s usually fierce expression soften at Ciri eases a burden Geralt didn’t know he was carrying.

“You okay?” Jaskier asks him when Geralt feels his— _the_ bard sidle next to him. They watch their other companions talk quietly in front of the fire.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums. After a moment, he looks up from cleaning the brush he uses for Roach’s mane to meet Jaskier’s concerned eyes. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Jaskier smiles softly at him, and this time Geralt’s heart _aches_ at the sight of this man, his friend, offer him comfort and affection. Geralt huffs a breath when Jaskier nudges his side, then he stiffens when he feels the bard’s head rest on top of his broad shoulder.

A second passes, and then another. The moment stretches on until Geralt forces himself to relax and allows himself to be in the moment.

“Is this okay?”

From his peripheral vision, he can see Ciri and Yennefer staring at them with twin expressions of amusement. Geralt ignores them and focuses on the brush he’s cleaning. All the while he’s hyper-aware of the soft chestnut locks of Jaskier’s hair lightly grazing his cheek, his breath warm against Geralt’s threadbare shirt.

“Hmm.”

Of course it’s more than okay.

~

By now, Geralt shouldn’t be surprised at how easily the pieces fall into place.

And by pieces, he means the current company he’s keeping.

Like Jaskier, Yennefer’s presence slots comfortably into their dynamic. She gets on with Ciri like a house on fire, and while there’s still a bit of tension between her and Jaskier, it’s more of a friendly banter now compared to before.

As for Geralt and his relationship with the sorceress, well…

“We can never go back to what we once were,” Yennefer tells Geralt one day as they bring up the rear, Ciri and Jaskier singing a Cintran tune in front of them.

“I know,” Geralt replies with a sad smile.

Surprisingly, he is more than okay with this. He obviously still cares for Yennefer, and he’s pretty sure he’ll always love her. But Geralt knows and understands better now. While a part of him is sad, a bigger part of Geralt is happier that at least Yennefer will remain in his life. Djinn wish or no, their fates are entwined together now.

“Perhaps we can be friends,” Geralt offers with a thoughtful hum. He hides his amusement when Yennefer turns to him in surprise. “Be Ciri’s co-parents. She’s just as much your child as she is mine, with Destiny bringing us together and all.”

It’s Yennefer’s turn to hum, but her eyes are focused ahead, specifically on Ciri and Jaskier. However, Geralt hides his shock when he feels Yennefer’s arm curl around his elbow. When he looks down, it’s to see the sorceress looking at him with a fond expression.

“What a patchwork family we make,” Yennefer muses, her voice carrying to their other companions who turn to look at them with twin curious expressions. “A sorceress, a witcher, an orphaned princess, and an annoying bard.”

“Don’t forget Roach,” Jaskier quips as he strums his lute.

Roach neighs next to him and Geralt huffs out a laugh, bringing one gloved hand to stroke the mare’s mane.

He likes that term: patchwork family.

~

Geralt finally catches on to what’s been happening, to what Destiny has been dangling in front of him for so long. And for a moment he has the urge to bang his head against a tree or a boulder at how much of an idiot he’s been.

The signs were all there. All he needed to do was _see_ and grasp the gift that’s been given to him.

And it’s the notion that sometimes, in life, what you want and what you deserve can be the same thing.

And when it does work out, you don’t ever let them go.

~

While Geralt is still plucking up the courage (much to Yennefer’s amusement and Ciri’s exasperation), he’s more than grateful when it’s Jaskier who makes the first move.

It’s just them in front of the campfire, Ciri and Yennefer having retired to the latter’s magical tent an hour ago, when Geralt hears Jaskier huff out a breath of frustration. He looks up to see the bard gently set his lute aside before he gets up. Geralt’s brows furrow in confusion, only to shift to a look of shock when Jaskier marches over to him and sits on Geralt by _straddling his thighs_.

“Jas…” Geralt’s throat is dry, and his hands unconsciously lift to lightly grasp Jaskier’s waist. He sucks in a sharp breath when Jaskier raises his arms to wrap around Geralt’s shoulders, one hand resting on his nape while the other settles on the back of his head.

Geralt already knows where this is heading, but it doesn’t stop the shiver of _want_ that courses through him.

“You’re taking too fucking long, darling, and I’m honestly too impatient to wait any longer,” Jaskier says, voice dripping with fondness and — _oh_.

Jaskier tastes like the rabbits they had for dinner and the wine he and Yennefer drank earlier. He also kisses like the way he plays his lute — skillfully and passionately, but also with a tenderness that Geralt _knows_ is meant just for him.

They both moan against each other’s mouths, Geralt’s hold on Jaskier’s hips tightening as he pulls him closer until their chests are touching and he can feel Jaskier’s growing hardness against his abs.

“I was working up to it,” Geralt mumbles, kissing a trail to the— _his_ bard’s jaw and neck.

“Well, _you_ got me all worked up, witcher,” Jaskier says, his words biting but his tone fond.

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s smile against his lips, and his chest is about to explode at how _right_ and _perfect_ this is.

“Hmm, let me make it up to you.”

Jaskier chuckles in his ear, and Geralt growls low in his throat when Jaskier salaciously whispers, “Later, darling. I’ve been waiting twenty years for this, let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

So Jaskier does. Again, and again. And again.

And Geralt gladly lets himself fall further.

~

“Some company you keep, pup,” Vesemir tells him offhandedly after training one day.

Geralt wipes off the sweat from his brow before he looks at his mentor. Vesemir’s gaze is fixed in the distance, and Geralt turns his head to see what he’s looking at.

Ciri is practicing her footwork with Eskel’s help. Yennefer is doing some basic exercises to improve her stamina as she slowly recovers from her injuries, and Jaskier and Lambert are chatting enthusiastically about god knows what.

Geralt doesn’t realise he has a fond smile on his face until he hears Vesemir’s throaty chuckle next to him. He meets his mentor’s keen gaze with a curious one.

“What?”

Vesemir shakes his head. “Nothing. As I said, Destiny or not, those are some company you keep.”

Geralt shrugs half-heartedly. When he looks over at the others, he meets Jaskier’s eyes, and his bard’s face light up as he smiles goofily at Geralt.

He feels his lips tug into another smile when he answers Vesemir, honesty and warmth in his voice:

“They’re my family.”

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment or a kudo to your writer, oh reader a-plenty!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://jaskierstark.tumblr.com) if you wanna say hi.


End file.
